Good People
by woolhat
Summary: "There is no need/That this survive/There's truth that lives/And truth that dies." - Leonard Cohen Apollo must comfort Klavier the day after Kristoph's execution.


They each said nothing as they ate, opting to let the cold silence fill the room and imply what words would make too real.

Apollo didn't let on that he didn't like pancakes, but he knew how to make them and supplies had been limited. It looked like Klavier had forgone grocery shopping for several weeks now. What remained tasted sadly of fridge, Apollo noted as he sipped on an unpleasant glass of apple juice.

The rest of Klavier's apartment was similarly depressing. Empty boxes of delivery food were tossed near the overflowing garbage can. Clothes were piled high on top of chairs. The herd of empty glass bottles on the counter was approaching a number that started to worry the defense attorney.

It was all in stark contrast to the immaculate bachelor pad Apollo had seen on an earlier occasion before things had fallen apart.

But now things were very much apart, scattered in pieces yet barely threaded together with a cruel streak of coincidence.

Klavier broke the silence first.

"I'm sorry I didn't have any maple syrup. There might be some chocolate sauce or something in the cupboard if you want."

Apollo looked up, careful not to let his eyes linger on Klavier's hair for too long. It was almost impossible not to stare.

"Yeah, that might be nice. I'll go find some."

Apollo had to step over a pizza box as he went into the kitchen. He opened a cupboard drawer at random and lifted himself up on his toes to see inside. He hoped Klavier was watching.

He returned to the table with a bottle of chocolate sauce and a small unopened jar of stuffed manzanilla olives.

"May I have some olives?" he asked, handing over the bottle of chocolate sauce.

"Uh…sure," Klavier said. "Eat them all if you want."

They finished their meal without saying much more. Apollo was stuffing outrageous numbers of olives into his mouth, in part as an attempt to make Klavier smile.

"Want some?" Apollo said through a mouthful of them. He tipped the jar slightly in Klavier's direction.

"No, I'm fine," Klavier said. He didn't seem entertained.

Apollo closed the jar and set it aside. He picked up the plates and brought them to the kitchen sink.

"Do you need me to do anything for you?" Apollo asked. "I can do some dishes, if you like."

"No, don't. I'm not trying to make you my housekeeper," Klavier said. "I'll take care of it later."

The two men sat down on Klavier's couches, facing one another across the coffee table. Apollo didn't know where to look—he didn't want to stare at the mess surrounding them, but to look at Klavier was to look at the horrible haircut he'd appeared to have given himself the night before.

Everything couldn't remain unaddressed at once. There was nothing left.

"I'm really glad you called me to come over. Just let me know what you'd like to do," said Apollo. He decided that looking directly at Klavier was the better option. "If you just want someone to sit here with you, I can do that. Or if you want to talk, or go somewhere. It's really up to you."

Klavier brought his feet up onto the couch and sat sideways. He looked out the window, away from Apollo, and said nothing.

Apollo let the silence grow again. He was comfortable in these silences when he knew the proverbial ball wasn't in his court anymore. Eventually, Klavier would speak.

And he did.

"How do you feel about it all?" he asked quietly. His voice shook.

Apollo moved to the chair on his left, closer to the couch Klavier was sitting on.

"About yesterday, or…"

"Just…the whole thing. The whole situation," Klavier said, vaguely gesturing with his hand.

"Are you sure you want to talk about it?"

Klavier nodded. "It's fine."

Apollo inhaled slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. He could feel the beating of his heart in his throat.

"When he was arrested, I didn't think it was real. I thought Mr. Wright was playing some sort of fucked up game. I punched him, you know? That day, in the defendant lobby."

Klavier raised his eyebrows.

"You punched Phoenix Wright?"

Apollo smiled slightly. "I did. I was so mad that he made me a pawn like that. The whole time I just felt like it was their trial: Mr. Wright vs. Mr. Gavin, having their own personal fight in court. I was just there being used by both of them."

Klavier grunted in acknowledgement.

"It seemed so unfair. I had a great position at a well-respected firm, being mentored by one of the city's most famous attorneys. I was making decent money. And then it all got ripped away." Apollo sighed.

"But then I realized how incredibly selfish that was, because all of you had it so much worse than I did. I just lost my boss, but everyone else lost a huge part of their lives. Trucy lost her dad, Mr. Wright lost his career, and you lost the person closest to you. Your brother."

The room was so quiet. Apollo wondered if Klavier had his apartment sound-proofed, or if it was simply a day of reflection for everyone around them, too. It was hard to intrude on such perfect silence.

"It must be hard that both of you are so high-profile," Apollo said.

Klavier didn't respond right away.

"I try not to read the news anymore," he began carefully. "The last time I did, I saw a weird interview with someone Kristoph dated in college. It was just so… unnecessary."

The thought of his former boss existing in a time frame outside of successful adulthood made Apollo uncomfortable, like it was something he wasn't supposed to see. But for Klavier, it would have been his whole life.

"It's easy for me to deal with those stupid sites that write articles about who I'm dating, or where I've partied, or whatever," he said. "But this stuff is different. It's so hateful."

He moved his feet back to the floor and sat up straight.

"I'm not going to defend anything Kristoph did, obviously. But that doesn't mean I want to see him dragged across broken glass in the paper I open my door to every morning. It becomes an attack on me, too."

"What kind of things are they saying?" Apollo asked hesitantly.

Klavier shook his head. "Garbage," he said, and left it at that. He lifted his feet back onto the length of the couch.

"It says a lot about you that you still want him to be treated fairly, even after everything that's happened," said Apollo. "You're a good person."

Klavier mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

The prosecutor sighed. "I said, you don't know that."

Apollo frowned, tilting his head. "Why not? You certainly seem like one to me."

"Do I?" Klavier snapped. He turned to face Apollo. "And how do you decide that? Is it because I haven't killed anyone like my brother has? I haven't forged evidence and murdered innocent people? Everyone keeps saying that to me, but it's not exactly comforting."

Apollo remained silent.

"It's what people always say when I bring him up. 'Oh, Klavier, _you're_ a good person. _You_ aren't a monster.' But it's a low bar to clear, isn't it?"

"That's not what I meant," Apollo said gently.

"But I'm not a good person!" Klavier almost laughed as he spoke. "Just because people pity me doesn't mean I'm good."

He tried to lower his voice to a more reasonable level.

"When Kristoph was arrested the first time, I was so angry. I blasted Herr Wright in the press, seeking out journalists to rant at. How could disgraced attorney Phoenix Wright point his finger at anyone? That's how I reacted!"

"But that's expected," Apollo said. "Of course you wouldn't have believed it; no one suspected anything except for Mr. Wright."

"But I did believe it!" Klavier cut him off. "I knew what he was saying was true, I read the court report. I just needed someone to get angry at and knew he was an easy target."

"You made it right in the end."

Klavier stood up. "Apollo, stop. Please stop. I can go on! I knew Daryan was smuggling those cocoons into the States. I knew what he was doing."

Apollo's eyes widened. "Really?"

"I didn't know it was going on during the concert with Lamiroir. But I knew he had plans, and I didn't say anything. I figured it out about halfway through the trial, and I didn't say a single thing."

That gave Apollo pause. Klavier sat back down, content with the other man's reaction. But Apollo wasn't done.

"Look, Klavier, I think you're trying to cut yourself down to feel better about things. I get that, I do. We've all had to do some soul-searching recently. But it's not that simple."

Klavier tried to speak but Apollo shook his head and raised a finger. He kept talking.

"Maybe you're right, maybe you're not a good person. But nobody is truly a good person, you know? I think we know that as lawyers better than anyone else."

Klavier's face was unreadable.

"Mr. Wright forged evidence during the Shadi Smith trial. Remember that ace of spades? And how Mr. Gavin was so adamant that it wasn't real? He was right, it wasn't. Trucy made the card using her own blood."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, completely. So, I guess in the end, Mr. Wright and Mr. Gavin were even on that front. Makes you think."

"I guess it does," Klavier said. He frowned.

"I can't pretend to know what it's like to have the closest people in your life arrested for the worst crimes. But I knew Mr. Gavin… At least a little bit. He did some good things in there, along with the bad. Humans are confusing."

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Kristoph raised me after our parents died," Klavier said. "He was only nineteen, and trying to get through college. I think I was hard on him, trying to rebel and be cool. But he never complained."

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry," Apollo said.

"They left us some money, but most of it went towards Kristoph's tuition. He still managed to put me in music lessons and buy me instruments, though," he said. His voice trailed off. "God, how did it end up like this?"

"I didn't have any family, either," Apollo said. "I lived in foster homes for awhile. When Mr. Gavin found out that I didn't have anyone supporting me, he gave me a raise. I hadn't seen money like that before… or since."

Klavier smiled slightly. His eyes were glistening. "I'm glad you told me that," he said.

"It means a lot more now, knowing he was once in the same place as I was."

Klavier rubbed his eye. "And yet here we are."

"Here we are," Apollo agreed. "Don't feel guilty about remembering the good things. They're a part of you."

"Thank you, Apollo."

There was a lot to unpack in what Klavier was saying, and Apollo knew there were wells of information he would have loved to explore. But it wasn't the time, nor might it ever be the time. Perhaps the answer to their questions lay buried underneath a tiny memory or feeling. But it would do more harm than good to dredge such an ocean of pain.

Apollo therefore said no more.

"Herr Forehead, I have a favour to ask," Klavier eventually said with a smile. The light-hearted tone warmed Apollo's chest.

"Ah, and here I thought we were done with that name," he replied with a matching grin. "What do you need?"

"First, we will never be done with that name, so get used to it. Second, I was wondering if you would help me rectify my terrible aesthetic choice." He pointed at his lopsided haircut. "I have an electric clipper and razors."

"Are you crazy? I'm a lawyer! I can't cut hair!"

Klavier laughed. "Nein, nein. I don't need you to cut it into a style. I'm going to shave my head."

Apollo's eyes widened even more. "What!" he squawked.

"I've always wanted to rock a bald head! Now I have the chance. Who knows, maybe I'll be the new 'Herr Forehead'." He winked.

Apollo rolled his eyes and continued to protest. Deep down, however, he was relieved. Seeing Klavier smile like that was the first flower poking through the snow after a storm.

Maybe things would be okay.


End file.
